


Victory Day

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Guys Win, F/M, Politics, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: On the first anniversary of the Order's victory over the Resistance, Hux visits a captive Leia in her cell.





	Victory Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).

He likes to leave the news broadcast running while he fucks her. Bent over the edge of her prison cot, lurching in time with Hux’s thrusts, Leia watches familiar footage of crowds gathering jubilant under a billowing canopy of red-and-black flags.

The Victory Day festivities have dominated every channel since dawn this morning. By repetition alone, Leia has learned the faces of individual citizens and the shape of their mouths as they scream pledges of loyalty up at the parapet. She has memorised every word of every speech. She could iron each seam of Ben’s outfit for him in the dark. No more cowls or masks, no more billowing robes – the self-styled Supreme Leader of the New Galactic Order is made of sharp angles and slim-fit military pomp, with a crimson sash and finely wrought epaulettes. A costume chosen by someone well versed in the aesthetics of power and prestige, or more likely, a team of someones deployed by the regime’s propaganda bureau to make this day perfect down to the last pleat.

Perfect except from the neck up. Dark locks hang sullen over ears that haven’t seen the light of day since Ben was fifteen years old, a style that evokes nothing so much as adolescent self-consciousness. If anyone at the bureau had consulted Leia, she could have told them not to even bother trying to make him cut it. 

Hux grips her tighter and tilts her hips up, pounding her deeper. She doesn’t allow him the satisfaction of hearing her grunt. Once, early in her captivity, adrenaline made her body betray her with a wracking orgasm around his cock. Practice has gotten her better at ignoring his violations. When he visits her cell, she bends over for him without a fight. She stays passive while he fucks her. Sometimes she gets herself off after he leaves, slicking her fingers with the mess he spilled inside her body. More often, she goes straight to the shower and scrubs until his scent is gone.

'Are you enjoying the Victory Day festivities?' he asks, in what he seems to think is a mocking imitation of a lover's gentle tone. Every note is wrong. Clearly, Hux has little experience of being spoken to with gentleness.

'The crowd certainly seem to be,' says Leia, as another round of cheering erupts.

'I should hope so. They're being paid handsomely for their show of support.'

'You don't think there's any sincerity to it?' The words come out in ragged puffs of breath between jarring thrusts – Hux doesn't slow his rhythm at all. 'This time last year, your forces finally put an end to the campaign of Resistance terrorism that hampered your legitimate rule. No longer must innocent citizens cower in fear of barbaric rebel attacks. The galaxy has peace at last. Surely, that's something worth cheering about.'

Hux snorts. 'I see you've been studying the broadcasts closely. You know, he didn't write a word of those speeches himself.'

The camera shifts. Up on his parapet above the cheering crowds, Leia’s son – the great Kylo Ren, beloved leader, bringer of peace and prosperity after decades of senseless war – launches into a well-crafted speech on the upcoming stage of Project ABY 50. Citizens, you all saw how the kingpins of the corrupt Republic made merry in their senate chambers while decay and disorder spread across the galaxy. Their time has ended and the people demand the rule of law. We want stability. We want continuity. We want jobs, we want infrastructure, we want choices for our children and protection from the lawless thugs who once wormed their way into every level of local government. By the year 50, citizens, the New Galactic Order is on track to deliver –

‘Look at him,’ Hux says. When she doesn’t comply – when she tries, for one doomed moment, to spare herself the nauseous shame of looking at her son’s face while getting fucked – Hux threads a hand in her hair and pulls her face up towards the screen. ‘As if he cares about jobs and infrastructure. I hope you’re proud of what you’ve created.’

He finally slows down. He's close: Leia can feel him twitching inside her, and her cunt aches from overuse and an unwanted building climax she refuses to have until after he's gone. 'Ren barely understands what he's saying,' he says in her ear. The sneer is audible. So is his vicious, zero-sum pleasure. 'Your son, princess, is nothing but a senseless brute – a puppet for the regime _ I _ devised, that _ I _ control behind the scenes while he stands up there in fancy dress and basks in the adulation of a crowd _ I _ paid for.'

'It's generous of you,' says Leia, 'to let him stand there in your rightful place. What a great and selfless man you must be.'

She'll never get the true story from Hux, but she doesn't need it. Leia has been in politics since long before Hux was a bastard twinkle in his accidental parents' eyes. Between him and the broadcasts and Ben's occasional visits to her cell, she has pieced together an understanding of exactly how their system works: they're at stalemate, the two of them, each with enough internal sway to make a coup against the other impossible. Nominally, they're joint leaders of the same regime; in practice, the factional divides run so deep that they might as well declare civil war and have done with it. 

Ben with his powers has a natural advantage, so Hux has found another way to level the field. Leia is under no illusions about why she's still alive this long after capture. With Hux in charge of the Order's gulags, her fate depends on Ben's willingness to negotiate for her safety. Unlike most mothers throughout the galaxy, Leia has empirical evidence to quantify exactly how much her son loves her: not enough to pay Hux's steep price for her freedom, but enough to make smaller concessions for her comfort (a private suite in the prison, separate from the crowded cell blocks) and wellbeing (extra rations, regular health checks, exemption from the punishing work quotas). Not enough to make him flinch from destroying her life’s work and everything she's ever held dear, but enough that he’s willing to negotiate with a rival who he’d otherwise prefer to crush. Enough that keeping her as leverage is worth Hux’s while.

They’re so very absorbed in their game, Hux and Ben. Their table is laid out with chits made of _ her_: her health, her safety, her bodily sanctity. Once, Leia used the chains of her own captivity to strangle a man who tried to degrade her. Now she cooperates, because there are other Resistance fighters alive in Hux’s grip, and not all of them have the good luck of a fallen son to half-heartedly advocate for their safety. Hux uses Leia to manipulate Ben and the rest of his Resistance captives to manipulate Leia, and he fucks her with clinical disinterest for no other reason than to prove he can. They’re absorbed in their game, and to Leia, they’re like children – children with filthy hands and limited perspectives, whose mindless tantrums will burn down the galaxy. 

Sometimes, in weak moments, she thinks about telling Ben what happens to her here under his ostensible protection. In other, even weaker moments, she knows she’s not ready to find out if he’d care – if her systematic rape would be a dealbreaker for him, or if he’d write it off as just one more price the galaxy must pay for his personal ascension.

She prefers to give her coerced consent without a fuss, and continue believing that if she ever _ really _wanted it to stop, her son would help her.

As the broadcast turns to a close-up of Ben’s face, Hux pumps inside Leia a few more times and comes. He withdraws the instant he’s done, and she’s left open and empty, muscles clenching on thin air as his seed oozes out in an unpleasant trickle. She hears rustling fabric as he tucks his cock away and fastens his belt. The dull, dense knot of heat in her core tells Leia that today will be one of the days when her body demands its consolation prize. As soon as she’s alone in the cell, she’ll roll onto her back and finger herself until she peaks with a disgusted shudder.

‘I’ll leave the broadcast on for you,’ Hux says as he steps back, leaving her soiled and discarded on the cot. ‘After all, Victory Day is for everyone to celebrate. And you do seem to be enjoying it so very much.’

‘Tell my son he needs a haircut,’ says Leia. ‘He looks dishevelled and it’s spoiling all your propaganda bureau’s hard work.’

Hux doesn’t answer – presumably because he knows she knows that he has no such influence. That he’s lucky on the days Ben grants him an audience, threats to his mother’s life be damned.

The cell door echoes when it slams shut behind him, and Leia’s used cunt throbs beneath its layer of sticky fluid residue.


End file.
